


Concealed Confessions

by optomisticgirl



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU, Confessional Smut, F/M, Priest!Killian, captain swan smut, slight masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 20:13:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5429321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/optomisticgirl/pseuds/optomisticgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was going to kill him. Screw the mind blowing sex and what the man could do with his tongue, she was going to murder him. Only, things don't go quite the way Emma expected when she accosts Father Jones in the confessional. [Holiday present] [One-shot]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Concealed Confessions

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little holiday present I wrote my naughty little cupcake, xpumpkindumplingx!
> 
> I've never written detailed smut before in my life so I decided to stretch my fingers at it for her Christmas present. This is set within the Take Me To Church universe (currently on FFNET, need to upload it here). It's in the future after they start banging (did you really think they wouldn't?) Just to warn you, it gets dirty REALLY fast. It wasn't going to be this dirty when I sat down to write it but apparently my muse likes a dirty talking Father Jones.
> 
> Beta read by the lovely and hilarious jscoutfinch!

Emma groaned as she read over the email from Mrs. Muffit, wondering for a brief moment if the universe would consider it a positive if she beat the band mom to death with her homemade muffins.

She had been working part-time as the church’s receptionist for three months now, and she had never felt the desire to punch someone so much as she had the last few months while dealing with MaryAnn Muffit. She was by far the most overbearing of the band moms Emma had encountered, demanding the church’s fellowship hall for every little thing (the school’s gym still hadn’t been fixed from the water damage it suffered back in June) and constantly sending Emma emails throughout the week, sometimes multiple times a day. The newest one was in regard to another bake sale for the marching band - _fucking marching band_ \- and how they would need the fellowship hall from 8 to 12 this coming Saturday.

The only problem was Belle’s survivor group met every other Saturday during that time and naturally Mrs. Muffit hadn’t consulted with Emma on the church’s schedule before sending out flyers for the bake sale. _Again._ Emma prided herself on running the church’s schedule with an iron fist, able to juggle Belle’s survivor group, countless bake sales for the various school groups, and normal church activities so that everyone was able to use the space when they needed -- and without stretching Father Jones too thinly.

And in walks Mrs. Muffit, expecting Emma and Father Jones to bend over backwards to accommodate her and her horrible blueberry muffins whenever the band decided it wanted to take a new field trip.

Leaning back in her office chair, Emma let her eyes fall on Father Jones’s empty desk. His laptop was still open from where he had been working on this Sunday’s sermon before he had to leave to take confessions, papers neatly stacked in a way that made Emma’s desk look like a tornado had hit it, his tidiness a trait that she knew still lingered from his Naval days. She couldn’t help but smirk at the Disney Captain Hook coffee mug sitting next to his computer - on a coaster, of course - and the memory of the way he had been so affronted when she suggested liking cartoon villains was immature.

It had lead to some amazing sex on the kitchen counter however, with him showing her just how mature he really was.

Of her three months working at the church she had been fucking the priest for two of them, a fact Emma had long ago stopped feeling guilty for. Truth was, she had stopped feeling guilty long before her and Father Jones had ever slept together. She had been the one to pursue him, seducing him every chance she got once she allowed herself to give in to the wicked dreams that had plagued her since meeting him. And it was very hard to feel guilty when she was having the best sex of her life with a man who looked like he had walked off a GQ photo shoot.

Licking her lips Emma remembered the last time they had been able to be together. It was two Sundays ago and he had taken her on his desk, her church dress around her waist, nails digging fresh scratches into the old wood as he pounded her from behind - all while the citizens of Storybrooke sat in the newly air-conditioned cathedral, awaiting their priest to start Mass. She had sat in the front pew afterward, finger-shaped bruises already forming on her hips and his cum drenching her underwear, without a single pang of guilt as she watched him deliver his sermon.

She squirmed in her chair at the memory of him filling her over and over again - _God it had really been too fucking long since she had him._ It wasn’t either of their faults. Emma was having to pick up extra shifts at the station over the last few weeks with Graham flying back to Ireland for his mother’s funeral and Killian had been busy with an influx of christenings and weddings. There had been no spare time for them to be intimate and it wasn’t like they could just make the time - he was a Catholic priest and their physical relationship was viewed as a mortal sin by the church. Shaking her head as her thoughts wandered, Emma forced her eyes back to the computer, scrolling the mouse back to the top of Mrs. Muffit’s email with a little more force than was probably necessary.

Sighing, Emma started to reread the message. Dwelling on the reasons she wasn’t able to have sex with the hot priest wasn’t going to change things. If anything, it was only going to make her hornier. She was halfway through the demanding email when a sentence caught her attention. She narrowed her eyes as she leaned forward, her grip on the mouse tightening with each swipe of her eyes across the screen.

_“As you know the band members are looking forward to their trip to Disney World this fall and Father Jones graciously agreed to let us use the fellowship hall this coming Saturday…..”_

Son of a bitch.

She was going to kill him. Screw the mind blowing sex and what the man could do with his tongue, she was going to _murder_ him. He knew better than to agree with event times and dates! She was the one who made sure events didn’t overlap, and here he was, just giving away church space and time without consulting her when there was already something planned. His own sister’s survivor group no less!

Yup, she was going to kill him.

Pushing up from her desk, images of running over his Captain Hook coffee cup with her yellow bug flashing through her mind, she stormed out of the office and through the silent church. He would still be taking confessions for the next half hour and she didn’t care if she walked in on Sneezy confessing about his little peeping tom habit, she was going to tear Father Jones a new one.

Bursting through the doors that lead from the back rooms of the church, her eyes instantly went to the confessional booth. The light above the door was on, meaning Killian was inside but the door to the parishioner side was open, indicating that no one was currently giving confession.

_Good._

Marching over to the booth she yanked the closed door open, taking pleasure in the way Killian was visibly startled.

“Emma, what in the-”

“ _You_ ,” she growled, stepping into his side of the booth and shutting the door, instantly plunging them into semi-darkness. There really wasn’t enough room for the both of them, her legs knocking against his as she moved to stand directly in front of him.

“I’m going to murder you.”

One dark eyebrow rose as he regarded her. “I can absolve most sins Emma, but it’s a tad hard to absolve that one, especially when I’m the one being murdered.”

She slapped his arm in irritation. “Don’t act like you don’t know why I’m mad at you!” she hissed.

Rubbing at his arm Killian mummered, “I genuinely don’t, love-”

“Oh don’t you ‘love’ me, you irritating priest!” Slapping his other arm she growled, “Does Mrs. Muffit’s bake sale this Saturday ring any bells?”

Realization instantly dawned in his too-blue eyes. “Oh, that.”

“Yeah, _that_ ,” she huffed. Crossing her arms she contemplated him for a moment before giving his right shin a good kick. “Did you forget your sister’s survivor group is meeting this Saturday? You know all scheduling has to come through me. Christ, Killian you can’t even remember whose wedding your officiating-”

Before she could finish he was moving, shooting up from the little bench and pushing her into the closed door of the confessional, bringing her arms above her head and pinning them to the wood. Whatever she was going to say died on her lips as she felt him press against her, their bodies flush from chest to knee and she couldn’t help but moan at the feel of him, all the hard muscle that she hadn’t felt in weeks.

“I know you like things rough, Emma,” he whispered, his warm breath just barely tickling her lips, “But a simple scheduling conflict doesn’t mandate physical violence.”

She gritted her teeth, determined not to let him use her hormones against her to win this battle.

“It does when a certain priest ignores the receptionist he hired and fucks up the-” her breath hitched as she felt him move his hips into her even more, his already hardening length pressing into her stomach. Through the dim light that filtered into the booth she could see his eyes darken as a smirk pulled at his lips.

“I don’t think a simple misunderstanding over a bake sale is what has you riled up, love” he murmured, causing his accent deepen to that level that always drove her insane with want. “I think,” he continued, moving to slowly run his lips along her jaw, “What’s _really_ bothering you is pent up sexual frustration.”

“N-no,” Emma stammered, her core clenching as his lips dragged across her skin. “I really-ah!” She gasped as he moved his lips down to her neck, nipping lightly at the sensitive area . The bastard knew her neck was her biggest weakness. “I really am pissed at you for screwing up  my schedule.”

Killian hummed against her throat before moving to where her shoulder and neck met, nosing the material of her t-shirt away so he could bite at the exposed skin, quickly soothing it with that damn talented tongue of his. His left hand kept her wrists pinned, the other lightly running up her side until his thumb grazed the underside of her breast and Emma’s body jerked against him, a curse falling from her lips as he chuckled against her shoulder. It felt like months (instead of weeks) since he had touched her like this and Emma was on fire, her skin igniting wherever his lips trailed and she could feel the knot of desire tighten in her belly.

 _Fuck._ This was only going to end one way if he kept this up and they could not do this now - she was definitely going to kill him for getting her riled up like this.

“Killian,” she whispered, his name trailing off into another quiet moan as he cupped her breast, slowly moving his thumb over her nipple until it hardened. “We can’t do this now.”

Releasing her skin from his lips - _God did he leave a mark?_ \- he looked at her, eyes dark with desire as he continued to play with her clothed nipple.

“Oh, I think we can, love.”

Before she could point out that they were in the confessional box, in the middle of the day, where anyone could walk in, he began rocking his hips forward, his arousal now fully hard. She tried desperately to ignore the throbbing of her clit in answer to his movements.

“Because this is what you want, isn’t it, Emma? What you’re _craving_? My cock to fill you up, to fuck you until you can’t see straight.”

God she loved when he talked like that but this really was not the time.

“I saw you last Sunday, sitting in that front pew next to your parents, eyeing me, and I could see the dirty thoughts running through your head. Were you thinking about me taking you on the altar again, legs spread and pounding into you as you begged for release? Or were you imagining sucking me off as I gave the sermon, those delectable pink lips wrapped around my cock until I came down your throat?”

_Oh this was not fucking fair at all!_

“Killian, we can’t… someone could come in.”

“Guess you’re going to have to keep quiet then, love.”

Emma would like to say she tried to stop the inevitable, but he was looking at her like he wanted to devour her, the look so reminiscent of the first time he had taken her in this very church on the altar table and her body was vibrating with her own need for him. God, she needed him too much.

“Stop talking and fuck me, priest.”

She felt his answering growl rumble through his chest and in the next instant his lips were on hers, plundering her mouth for all he was worth. She met him stroke for stroke, her tongue wrapping around his even as he pressed her more firmly into the confessional door. Her lungs felt like they were going to burst with her need for oxygen but she couldn’t stop, not after having been denied the taste of him for almost two weeks. He continued to tease her nipple through her shirt, rolling the hardened bud between his thumb and forefinger none too gently and the action caused her to gasp against his mouth, hips rolling into him as she sought some kind of friction to relieve the ache that had settled between her thighs.

Pulling away from her lips, he peppered kisses along her jaw until he reached her ear. “Be quiet Emma or I’m going to have to put something in your mouth to keep you quiet.”

Giving as good as she got, Emma nipped at his exposed earlobe, relishing in the deep groan he was unable to stop.

“What makes you think that would be a punishment, Father?” she whispered hotly in his ear.

He pinched her nipple hard in answer, forcing her to bury her gasp in his shoulder. God, she loved when he was rough.

Killian shifted then, releasing her wrists and bringing his leg between hers until it met the place she was aching. Letting her hands fall to grip his dark locks, she wasted no time in wantonly grinding herself down on his thigh, little bursts of pleasure shooting down her spine as she found the friction she needed. She didn’t care if she soaked through her jeans and onto his robes - it definitely wouldn’t be the first time.

“I’ve wanted to take you in here ever since you touched yourself on the other side of this confessional,” he growled in her ear, sending another bolt of desire straight to her clit. If he kept that up she was going to come simply by riding his thigh. “You drove me insane that night, Emma. Shirt opened, exposing those glorious breasts and your skirt hiked up.” His hand dropped to her hips, jerking her against his unyielding thigh even harder. “And all I could do was sit here and watch you get yourself off.”

Emma moaned at the memory, her last ditch effort to get the good Father to give in to the desire she knew he had for her. She rode her fingers on the other side of the booth, imagining what it would be like for him to take her, all while he watched through the divider.

“If I remember correctly,” she said, gasping as the seam of her jeans hit her clit when she rolled along his thigh, “You enjoyed it so much you jerked off to the sight.”

“I couldn’t help myself,” he murmured disparagingly, his lower half rutting into her on a hard thrust, “Not when you’d haunted my dreams every night and I suddenly had the reality in front of me, whispering about how much you wanted my cock buried in you.”

“Yes,” Emma moaned, increasing her movement on his thigh. “Killian.”

God she was going to come like this, riding a priest’s leg as he whispered dirty imagery into her ear and Emma couldn’t find it in herself to care. All that mattered was the pressure building between her thighs, the cusp of the sweetest oblivion just beyond her reach and she was _right there_ \- and suddenly his thigh was gone, the edge of pleasure quickly receding as her point of contact was taken away and she growled, her grip on his hair tightening.

He really was trying to get murdered today.

Killian chuckled deeply as he leaned back, blue eyes searing into her. “Oh don’t worry, love,” he whispered, his right hand sliding from her hip down to her backside and squeezing, “I’m going to take care of you soon enough.”

Before she could utter another word his hands were at the hem of her shirt, pulling up roughly until he had freed her of the garment. Goosebumps erupted along her chest as the cold air of the confessional box hit her exposed skin - she had forgotten he had air conditioning installed even in here - and he grinned salaciously at her before ducking his dark head, lips latching onto the nipple he had been teasing earlier. Emma bit her lip to keep from moaning obscenely as his tongue darted out over the white lace, instantly soaking the barely there bra.

She could feel her body responding to his ministrations again, sparks of desire shooting through her veins as he nipped and sucked at her through the lace. She was so lost in the pleasure he was giving her that Emma didn’t realize he had unbuttoned her jeans until they were already halfway down her thighs, and she quickly kicked her boots off as he continued to push them down her legs.

She loved him like this, the shackles of priesthood tossed away to reveal the man beneath the robes, a man who wanted and desired so fiercely. He preferred to take his time with her, drawing her pleasure out until she was an incoherent mess, but when he was like this all he wanted to do was take, fucking her fast and hard like he couldn’t get enough of her to slake his thirst.

In a matter of seconds he had her completely naked, her bra hanging almost comically from the doorknob of the confessional and her drenched underwear making their way into his pants pocket. He turned her and brought her back flush to his front, one hand coming up to grope her breast as the other slid slowly down her stomach and into the blonde curls between her thighs.

“So wet for me, Emma,” he moaned as he blessedly dipped his finger through her folds, the feeling of finally having him touch her where she needed him causing her to jerk backwards. He grunted at the movement, using the leverage of his arm over her middle to grind his clothed arousal into her ass as he began to slowly circle her bundle of nerves. “How often have you soaked your underwear these last few weeks thinking about me?”

She couldn’t answer him at first, her clit throbbing under his skillful fingers almost causing her knees to buckle and she had to reach back and grasp his hair with one hand, the other flying to his hip behind her to keep herself grounded. Turning her head she nipped at his lips.

“Every damn day. I need you now, Father Jones.”

He gave her clit a hard swipe  his finger (she knew calling him Father while they were having sex turned him on) before letting her go completely, and Emma forced herself not to whimper at the loss of his touch as she turned to watch him. Bringing his finger to his lips he popped the soaked digit into his mouth, groaning as her taste hit his tongue and Emma felt a new wave of wetness coat her thighs at the sound. Heated blue eyes remained locked on her as he unbuttoned his cassock and quickly worked at his belt buckle, the clinking of the metal clasp the only sound in the small room, save for their labored breathing. She felt her skin prickle in anticipation as he unzipped his dress pants and she couldn’t help but lick her lips as his cock sprang free, already fully hard and leaking precum.

“All in due time, love,” he mummered deeply, giving himself a few strokes before letting his pants fall to his ankles and sitting back down on the bench, legs spread. She came willingly when he beckoned to her but as she went to straddle him he stopped her, tapping her hip lightly with his free hand. “Turn around for me.”

 _Oh._ She immediately heeded the command, a shiver running down her spine when she felt his fingers dance lightly over her ass, almost ticklish before grasping her right shin and pulling her leg back to rest on the padded bench outside his own leg. Catching onto what he wanted, she balanced her weight on her right leg so she could bring her left leg back into the same position, his left arm coming around her middle to anchor her as she straddled him.

Her breath hitched as she felt him nudge her entrance, her walls instantly clenching at the brief contact after having been without him for so long. Her nails dug crescent moon shapes into her own palms as she sunk downward and he began to slide into her inch by glorious inch, slowly filling her up until their hips were flush. She was so full, stretched to the line of pleasure and pain and she fucking loved it. She loved how he felt inside her, how no other lover she had ever taken filled her like this, how she craved having him.

“Fucking hell, Emma,” he groaned quietly behind her and she whimpered in reply at the feeling of finally having him back inside her.  

“We’re never going this long again without having sex,” she whispered, her words ending on a gasp as Killian thrust up unexpectedly, his thick cock dragging deliciously along her walls. He grunted in agreement, one hand coming to rest on her hip as the other slid up her body and firmly grasped a breast.

“Ride me, angel.”

Emma began to instantly move, rising and falling slowly. She knew they didn’t have time for slow, but it felt like they hadn’t done this in forever and she wanted to savor the feel of him moving in and out of her. That familiar coil was tightening again in her belly, the pleasure quickly building back from when she had been riding his thigh earlier and he deprived her of release. Despite the fact her entire body was burning, a shiver ran down her spine when he moved her hair to fall over her left shoulder, those damn magical fingers caressing the back of her neck with feather-light touches, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“God, you feel so good,” she moaned, a bolt of desire shooting through her as his other hand pinched her nipple roughly.

“So tight like this,” he mumbled, letting his lips follow the trail his fingers had just made down her neck, “Christ, I’ve missed you, Emma.”

“I’ve been here all week,” she panted, biting her lip to keep from crying out as he thrust up in time with her downward stroke, hitting that spot inside her that made her see stars. “Again. Right there, Killian.”

She felt him shift beneath her, his next thrust once again making her see stars.

“You’ve been here but I haven’t been able to have you,” he whispered, licking at the spot on the back of her neck that he knew was sensitive, causing her to jerk in his hold. “You drove me insane this week Emma, wearing that short fucking skirt on Wednesday that made me hard as a rock through evening Mass. I barely made it to my office before I had to take care of myself.”

“Fuck,” she whimpered. Bringing one of her hands to his head, she threaded her fingers through his black locks, gripping hard as both of their movements increased. “Tell me.”

His right hand slid around her hip, tracing teasing circles amid the blonde curls that lay right above where she needed him to touch her. “I thought of you above me in my garden at night, the moonlight causing your skin to glow silver. Those perfect breasts bouncing as you rode me into sweet oblivion.” He paused and she could feel him lean back slightly. “Just like I’m watching that pert little ass bounce on me now as you seek your pleasure. I jerked myself off sitting right there at my desk, hips thrusting into my hand as I wished it was you, not caring when I stained my robes with my seed. Hmmmm... do you want to come, Emma?”

“Yes!” she gasped, her own movements becoming erratic as he described how he had pleasured himself, the image of it so clear in her mind. She almost sobbed with relief when she felt his hand move past her curls, one long finger coming to rest on her clit. Fuck she was going to come and she didn’t know if she could keep quiet…

A dim light blinking on startled both of them and it took Emma a second to realize where it was coming from through her haze of pleasure. A small bulb sat in the upper-left corner on this side of the confessional booth and she instantly froze above him. _Shit!_ That was the light that denoted that someone was coming in to confess! Before she could say anything or move she could hear the distinct sound of the door on the other side opening and closing followed by the rustling of clothes as the confessor sat in the padded chair.

“Bless me Father, for I have sinned.”

 _Oh God._ It was her mother!

If Emma wasn’t so horrified she would have found the situation hilarious - it wasn’t every day your mother sat down in a room next to you while you had a priest’s cock inside you - but as it was, horrified won out. Her mother couldn’t find out she was having an affair with a priest! She started to scramble off Killian’s lap when strong hands grabbed her waist, keeping her firmly in place.

“Father Jones?”

“Yes,” Killian responded a little too loudly. Clearing his throat he continued, “I’m here, my child.”

_What the fuck was he doing?!_

“Are you okay? You sound odd.”

“Perfectly fine,” he replied, his hold on Emma’s waist tightening as she once again tried to get up from his lap. “I’m starting to come down with a cold is all. Forgive me for not opening the partition but I don’t want to chance infecting you.”

“Oh,” came her mother’s concerned voice, “Yes, of course, Father.”

“Please continue.”

As her mother continued with her confession - _It had been two days since her last confession? God, how often did her mother confess?!_ \- Emma went to look over her shoulder with her best ‘what the fuck are you doing?’ face when Killian leaned forward, his breath blowing hotly on her ear.

“You aren’t going anywhere, Emma,” he whispered softly so her mother couldn’t hear, “Now be a good girl and let me fuck you while I take your mother’s confession.”

That should not have turned her on but God help her, it did. There was always the chance of someone being close to them as they had sex, especially when it was in the middle of the day, but this was the closest they had come to getting caught. And there was something thrilling about having sex and knowing someone was on the other side of the confessional booth that only ramped up the forbidden aspect of their affair tenfold. She felt his fingers flex against her hips and she knew it was his way of asking if she wanted to continue because despite his command, he wouldn’t continue if she really didn’t want to.  

Her response was in the roll of her hips and she could feel his smile against her neck.

The presence of someone else on the other side meant Emma couldn’t move, the risk of making a sound as she did was too great. Killian seemed to come to the same conclusion and took over. Because Emma’s hips were flush with his lap and his own considerable length was already deep enough within her, he only had to give short, shallow thrusts to create the friction they needed. Her mother droned on and on about her sins - Emma was certain God didn’t care that Mary Margaret had lied to one of her student’s parents about her availability for a meeting - as Father Jones continued to fuck her, once again quickly building her back up to that edge of pleasure.

It took everything she had not to make one sound and it was clear Killian was fighting a battle himself to seem even remotely normal whenever he had to respond to her mother. She could tell when he had to take a deep breath before talking, his cock continuing to move within her, but he wasn’t able to completely get rid of just how wrecked he sounded and more than once her mother paused mid-confession to inquire if he was really alright.

On one such moment Emma clenched her walls around him deliberately, a thrill shooting through her as the action caused him to falter as he spoke. Her victory was short lived, however, as he retaliated with a hard thrust and nipple pinch, forcing her to bite her lip to keep from shouting his name as pleasure coursed through her.

As his hand once again found her wet flesh to rub rough circles on her clit, the coil in her belly tightened to its breaking point, her orgasm licking at the base of her spine. This was it. She was going to come, and for a brief second she was truly worried she wouldn’t be able to keep quiet --  not after he had brought her to the cusp of pleasure twice only to back away. Another rough circle of his finger and she was there, mouth falling open in a silent scream as she tipped headlong into the most intense orgasm of her life. White-hot pleasure coursed through her, stars bursting behind her closed eyes as her body jerked in his arms from the intensity of it.

She was fairly certain he had made her see God in that moment.

He stilled his hips completely, letting her own movements along his cock prolong her ecstasy as he slowly brought her down with gentle swipes of his finger. Through the haze of pleasure she heard him breathlessly absolve her mother of her sins before asking the school teacher if anyone else was waiting for confession and when her mother replied no, he quickly instructed her to please lock the main church doors as she went. There was a brief exchange as her mother suggested home remedies to ward off a cold, and then she was exiting the confessional booth with a promise to check on him later.

Emma was just beginning to come back to herself as she heard the distant sound of the large church doors being shut. Before she could even think of trying to move Killian was gently pushing her up and helping her turn to face him as she slowly slid to the floor of the confessional, her legs not quite able to support her weight yet. Looking up at him from between his spread legs she could see just how wrecked he was; eyes midnight black, his cock still hard and glistening with her juices.

“Such a naughty girl, Emma,” he mumbled, wrapping his hand around his swollen member and beginning to move it over the rigid flesh, “Letting a priest fuck you in a confessional with your mother on the other side. You’re going to need absolution for your sin.”

Emma licked her lips, watching as he pleasured himself and completely mesmerized by the way his hips surged up as his hand came down. God she loved watching him do this. Having him in her when he came was by far the best because she could _feel_ when he pulsated into her, but there was something intoxicating about him simply bringing himself to completion. It was the way he moved his hand, the slight twist as he reached the tip, sometimes letting his thumb swirl over the head to collect the precum before falling back down his shaft. His tongue was always playing with his lower lip in everyday life, but in moments like this he let his teeth catch that full lower lip, dark eyes locked on either the movement of his hand or her. The sounds drove her absolutely insane with desire - the little grunts on a downward stroke, the shaky breaths as he got closer and closer to his release. She loved the sounds they made together but that slick, sliding sound of flesh on flesh that came only when he worked himself went straight to her clit every time.

She moved forward, resting her hands on the hardwood floor beneath her as she brought her face within inches of his moving hand. “Are you going to give me absolution, Father Jones?” she whispered, delighting in the way he moaned as her hot breath tickled the head of his cock.

“Oh I’m going to give it to you,” he panted, “I’m going to fucking bathe your throat in it.”

Emma moaned, a hand wandering from the floor up her body to squeeze her own breast at the vivid image his words painted in her mind. She watched his eyes track the movement of her hand, teeth sinking into his lower lip as she played with a still-hardened nipple.

“Emma,” he whispered, half in pleasure and half in warning. Closing the short distance she wrapped her lips around the head of his cock as his orgasm hit him. She watched his head fall back to the wall of the confessional with a loud thud, eyes squeezing shut as absolute pleasure took over his handsome features. She felt the first burst of his salty release hit her tongue and she moaned at the taste, swallowing as he filled her mouth over and over again. When he had nothing more to give her she slowly pulled away, tongue darting out to catch a stray droplet of cum on his cock, earning her a quiet groan from the man in front of her. Looking up at him he was completely and utterly wrecked, eyes hooded as he regarded her, lower lip red from where his teeth had sunk into it. Forcing her jelly-filled limbs to move she climbed into his lap, straddling him as his breathing began to regulate.

Blue eyes the color of the sea again blinked up at her, a sated smile tugging at his lips. “That was….”

“Extremely risky.”

“Well I was going to go with ‘hot’ to describe the encounter myself.”

Emma rolled her eyes as one of her hands began to play with the curl of hair right behind his ear. “Fine, yes, it was hot. But it was also risky, Killian. We easily could have been caught.”

“Aye,” he conceded, rough hands skimming her sides, “I just couldn’t control myself. You came in here all firey and it had been too long since I had you, and it was clear you needed the release darling. Forgive a priest for wanting a taste of heaven?”

She pursed her lips as she looked down at him in contemplation. “I don’t know… what kind absolution does he want?”

“Just a kiss, love.”

Unable to resist such a request but choosing to ignore the warmth and emotion she saw shining out of his blue eyes - that was just a figment of the low light of the confessional - she leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips. It wasn’t frantic or needy like their earlier kiss but slow, a languid exploration of familiar terrain. Pulling away before they could get carried away again, she looked down at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Are you going to keep your paws out of my schedule from now on?”

He grinned. “Lass, if I get to fuck you like that every time I meddle with your schedule, I’m going to start doing it weekly.”

She playfully swatted at his shoulder before standing, her legs finally able to support her weight. “Come on smart-ass, let’s get dressed and head back to the office.”

He watched her pull on her jeans and shirt as he righted his own clothes. “What’s the rush, love? There aren’t any meetings on today’s schedule.”

Emma smirked as she stuffed her bra into the back pocket of her jeans. Leaning over his still seated form, she placed a chaste kiss to his lips before moving to whisper hotly in his ear, “I’ve still got three hours until I’m due for my shift at the station and I don’t know about you, Father Jones, but I plan on spending those three hours taking you slowly, so I can savor every delicious sound you make.” Not waiting to see what his reaction would be, Emma turned and quickly opened the confessional door, the bright lights of the church momentarily blinding her as she made her way to the back of the church.

She smiled when she heard the unmistakable sound of shoes skidding along hardwood floors.


End file.
